Locked In
by Windblown.child
Summary: Sam is ready to complete the third trial, Castiel has been missing, and Dean wonders what the truth is. Until everything goes wrong again. Alternate end to Season 8. No slash.
1. The Fall

Anything recognizable is not my property. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

* * *

The Fall

The old wooden door of the church gave way with a soggy crunch and Dean skidded to a stop. Crowley was bent forward as much as his chains would allow and Sam was slumped against the altar, unmoving. The older Winchester was at his brother's side in an instant, his brain stuttering on the utter stillness of the taller man's chest.

"Sammy?" Dean felt the panic start to clench his heart. "Sam!"

Seconds passed and each moment Sam didn't open his eyes drove home the reality that Naomi hadn't lied. Dean was too late to stop his brother from completing the trials. All of the demons had been locked back in Hell and the gates sealed permanently. But that still left Crowley.

Leaving Sam where he lay, Dean whirled on the demon, knuckles white with fury. "Well, Crowley, Sam's dead. Guess this means you're human."

The former King of Hell struggled to raise his head to look at the hunter. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" The first blow snapped Crowley's head to the side but he turned back to the hunter. "You're not sorry yet!"

Dean hit the bound man repeatedly, letting all of the anger and despair at losing his brother pour into the barrage. Crowley could do nothing but take the beating until blood bubbled between his teeth and the hunter stepped back. The former Demon didn't try to speak again as Dean sagged back to the floor next to his brother.

The older Winchester's world seemed to shatter even further, leaving nothing but the hollow need to get Sam back. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Sam was supposed to survive the trials. They were supposed to lock away all of the Demons and retire, leave the other monsters to younger hunters. Sam was supposed to get married and have a bunch of kids, but that life was gone.

Yet the stubborn hunter couldn't accept that. There was always a way, even if that meant climbing his way into Heaven to get his brother back.

Crowley looked up in surprise when he felt the iron collar loosen and fall away. Dean glowered at him, daring him to speak or fight back. "Get up. We're going for a ride."

The former Demon King wavered on his feet, and climbed into the trunk of the Impala before Dean went back for Sam's body. He carefully lifted the larger man and silently cursed anything that would listen, even Castiel. When he stepped into the open air, a streak of light in the clouds caught his eye. For a moment the hunter dismissed it as a meteor or plane, but when dozens more illuminated the overcast sky, Dean recognized it for what it was.

Angels. The Angels were falling.

Dean sagged against the side of his car, still cradling Sam's limp weight and watched the celestial beings crash to earth. Vaguely, he wondered where Cas would land, or if he would be alone in Heaven. It was disheartening to see such powerful creatures ripped from their home, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All Dean could focus on was getting his brother back.

Everything felt slightly unreal as Dean slid Sam's body into the cold storage and closed the door. It wouldn't matter how many times it happened, he would never be able to bury his little brother. Only this time there was no crossroads Demon to make a deal with and no Angels to make it all better. And despite how desperate he was, Dean wasn't quite prepared to try to bind Death again.

* * *

Letting the heavy metal door slam open, Dean hid a self satisfied smirk at the dark bruises that colored Crowley's face. "You're going to help me get Sam back."

"I can't."

"I know you can't do it, but you've got to know something."

"Only Angels can get into Heaven. Just call your pal, Cas." The usual sarcasm was absent from the former Demon's face.

"No can do. The Angels are gone."

"What do you mean gone?"

"I mean they all fell. So you're going to come up with another way." Dean crossed his arms and stared at his prisoner.

"I would help you, but I don't know how."

"Well you think about it when you start getting hungry."

The hunter left Crowley chained to a chair in the hidden dungeon and closed the door. Unfortunately, the Limey prick was right. Only Angels could enter heaven and if he killed himself, he would be headed straight downstairs. Dean sunk into a chair to think, finally allowing himself to feel his exhaustion and a pulsing ache centered behind his left eye. But despite the bone deep weariness, Dean Winchester began pulling books closer, searching for some hint as to how to enter Heaven and retrieve a soul.

Hours later, Dean came to the conclusion that there really was no way to enter the celestial plane. Only the Archangels had the power to open the Gates of Heaven other than God, but the four powerful creatures had been destroyed. Gabriel by Lucifer, Raphael by the soul-drunk Castiel, and Michael was banished to the cage with Lucifer.

Just thinking of the powerful Archangels made the hunter remember his own guardian and friend. Castiel still had not answered his prayers but Dean could not quite bring himself to give up on him. It was Cas after all. He had faith in Dean when even Sam couldn't and the hunter hoped he was safe.


	2. Grounded

Anything recognizable is not my property. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

* * *

Grounded

Castiel's head rolled on a neck that wouldn't support its weight and tried to look around. Metatron had disappeared after completing the spell and Naomi's body was still slumped over her desk, dead eyes staring back at him. Left alone in the silent room, Cas' thoughts began to grow louder, drowning out the pain of losing his Grace.

He could hear nothing on Angel Radio and prayed his brothers and sisters had survived the fall to Earth. Sam and Dean were out there somewhere and he hoped that the third trial had been stopped. There would be little left to fight for if the Winchesters fell. The thought of escape never even occurred to the fallen Angel until the door hissed open behind him.

Metatron stepped into view and his vessel seemed fuller somehow, making Castiel pull against his unbreakable bonds despite the futility. "Looks like it's just us here."

Cas narrowed his eyes but didn't respond. There could be no good reason why the Scribe of God would keep him in Heaven without his Grace.

"Hmm, a little housecleaning I think." Metatron snapped his fingers and Naomi's body vanished, leaving the pneumatic drill gleaming on her desk.

The Angel picked up the drill and examined the point. "Naomi was very good with this. I wonder how long it would take me to gain her level of skill."

It felt like his blood had been replaced with ice water as Metatron approached with the instrument, the pneumatic whine making his teeth ache. No matter how hard he struggled, Castiel couldn't pull his head away from the drill as it lowered towards his left eye. But before the whirling metal bit could touch his skin, the Angel pulled it away.

"No, that's too easy. I think I'll start somewhere lower." The scribe considered the bound man in the chair, tapping one finger against his lip.

Before Castiel could ball his fists, Metatron drove the sharp bit through one of his fingernails and into the chair. Cas screamed harder than he had ever screamed before and passed out, tasting blood in his mouth.

* * *

Dean rubbed absently at his brow, trying to make the scribbles remain still on the page when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. In a flash, the hunter had his pistol pointed at Kevin, wondering for a moment how he got in before he remembered that the prophet had been squirreled away somewhere in the bunker working on translating the Angel Tablet.

"You going to shoot me?"

"No. Just tell me you figured out the slab." Dean set the pistol on the table within easy reach.

Kevin waved dismissively and sunk into a chair. "I translated it into Elamite but that's a dead end."

"Why?"

"Because scholars have tried to figure it out for ages and they can't."

"You're telling me you translated it from one dead language into another?"

The young prophet shrugged and crossed his arms. "It's the best I can do."

"Well your best just isn't good enough."

"You said I was done!"

"We're done when I get Sam back!" Dean hated himself for shouting at the kid, but there was no out. Once you saw the supernatural world for what it was, you were marked for life.

"What happened to Sam?" Kevin instantly let go of his own anger and pain upon seeing the broken look on the hunter's face.

"Dead. But I'm going to get him back." The older Winchester rubbed his face and took a deep breath. "He's all I've got, Kevin. I've got to get him back."

The prophet nodded and stood. "I'll get my notes. Maybe Castiel can make sense of it."

"He's gone too"

"What?"

"The Angels fell and I'm guessing so did Cas."

"That's just great, Dean. The Demons are all in Hell, the Angels are gone, and we have no one that can read Elamite!"

"Wait." Dean looked up at Kevin. "There is one person we could ask."


	3. Really Bad Idea

Anything recognizable is not my property. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

* * *

Really Bad Idea

"Of course I can read it."

"So what does it say?"

"Oh, lots of interesting things. Like dear Cassie's little spell to toss those feathered bastards out on their arses."

"Keep talking."

The former King of Hell smirked up at the hunter. "I'd like a room with a view for starters."

Dean smiled evilly and Crowley leaned back slightly. "Let's just start with food."

As if by command, a rumble echoed through the small room. Crowley looked scandalized and Winchester's smile widened. "Forgot about being human, didn't you?"

If looks could kill, Dean would have been a smoldering pile of ash on the floor. Crowley snatched the pages of indecipherable cuneiform and studied them. The hunter was beginning to get impatient when the former Demon looked up.

"What am I looking for?"

"How to get Sam out of Heaven."

"No can do. The Gates were sealed, just like Hell."

"So who has the key?"

"No one. It's impossible to undo. Have to wait for your time." Crowley held the loose pages out and shrugged. "Only God or an Archangel could sneak in."

Dean snatched the notes back and wrinkled his nose. "And they're all dead. Perfect."

No one noticed when Kevin's eyes went wide in realization. "Dean, can I talk to you?" He wasn't willing to share his idea with the former Demon.

"Sure. This was a waste of time."

"Oi! I want a sandwich!" Crowley hollered as the heavy metal door was pushed back in place.

"What is it Short-Round?"

Kevin glared for a moment but let it go. "They aren't all dead."

"What? There's more than four of those dicks?"

"No - at least I don't think so. I mean there are two still alive and you know right where they are."

"Just spit it out already."

The prophet smiled and crossed his arms. "Michael and Lucifer."

* * *

The meal was hardly gourmet, but Dean couldn't help being satisfied with the way Crowley was attacking the sandwiches. Finally, the former Demon sat back and brushed the crumbs and dried blood away from his mouth. Having a good meal had clearly given Crowley much of his original sass back.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I need to get into Purgatory."

"Excuse me? For a moment there I thought you said Purgatory."

Dean just stared at his prisoner, arms crossed.

"Why in the name of all that's sinful would you want to go back there?"

"Because it's Hell-adjacent."

Crowley narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the hunter. "No can do."

"Oh, I think you can."

"The Gates are sealed. There's no getting in."

"See, I think the Gates are definitely sealed, but someone might have left a window cracked." Dean let his arms fall, revealing the sweating bottle of water he carried. "And you're going to help me."

Crowley visibly swallowed, mouth suddenly dry from the sandwiches but Dean didn't offer the bottle. He cracked the seal and raised it to his lips as if to take a drink. "Aren't you?"

The former king of Hell wanted to spit in his captor's face, but he couldn't even work up the saliva to do so. "Fine."

He would never admit it, but that bottle of ice cold water was the most satisfying thing Crowley had ever put in his mouth.


	4. Familiar Faces

Anything recognizable is not my property. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

* * *

Familiar Faces

Dean didn't like the way it felt like a homecoming when he stepped through the portal into Purgatory. He knew to expect the odd indirect lighting and blood thirsty monsters, but feeling so at home made him cringe inwardly. Part of him would always be tempted by the beastial purity of the land but the rest of him focused on searching for anything that looked like a back door into Hell.

"Fucking monsters." Dean half sighed and half growled at the headless Lamia at his feet.

A twig snapped somewhere behind the hunter and Dean turned slowly, scanning for any movement. In an explosion of leaves, a werewolf sprung from the bushes towards the human. Winchester barely had time to tighten his grip on his machete when a larger form dropped from the trees and landed on the lycanthrope, crushing its spine. Without looking at Dean, the figure bit viciously into the paralyzed creature's neck.

The human raised the machete, ready to strike until he recognized the figure climbing to his feet. "Benny?"

"I can't say I was expecting to see you again."

Dean drank in his friend's Louisiana drawl and lowered the blade. "I can't believe it."

"You better." The two men embraced warmly. "What are you even doin' here? That Angel didn' get you stuck here again, did he?"

"It's a long story."

"Well I guess you should tell it, seein' as you're traveling away from the escape hatch."

Dean told the vampire his story from when Benny rescued Sam from Purgatory in harsh pants while they fought off a menagerie of monsters. Finally the Cajun whistled between his blunt human teeth.

"You never do things by half, do ya, brother?"

"Guess I don't know how to." The human wiped his bloody machete on the dead Rugaru's shirt. "So you have any idea where this back door into Hell is?"

"Your brother told me what to look for when he was here." Benny nodded despite looking like he wanted to run in the other direction as fast as he could.

Dean was glad to be traveling with his old friend. It made a bad situation better even as his gut twisted with guilt. "You know I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

"Don't be. You had enough on your plate without havin' to babysit an old blood junkie."

The knot didn't ease as they traveled until he could sense they were close. Guilt over the vampire had to take a back seat over what he was going to do next. When they reached the trees with the rock at the base, Dean stopped.

"Thank you, for everything."

Benny pulled him into a bone crushing hug. "Anything, brother, anything."

"Here, I won't need this where I'm going." The hunter held out the machete. "You take care of yourself."

Never one for long goodbyes, Dean pulled the rock away from the trees and stared into the portal. This was the absolute last place he wanted to go, but Winchesters were stubborn when it came to what they wanted. One last glance back at the vampire and he vanished.

* * *

Memories better left buried threatened to overwhelm the hunter the moment he stepped through the portal. 40 years in Hell couldn't be erased by any amount of lives saved so Dean rode out the nightmares until he could push them back and then strode purposefully into the miserable land.

Hell liked to play tricks on its inmates minds. It was fluid, and would shift as soon as no one was looking. A door would seem to be only steps away only to have the floor disappear without warning. But Dean knew Hell's tricks and focused straight ahead, cutting down any Demons that came near. Nothing was going to stop him from kicking open the cage and riding the Archangels right back into Heaven.

Indeterminable hours later, the Winchester was beginning to tire despite the restorative powers of the underworld. The number of Demons attacking the human had decreased, which only made him more alert. Suddenly, a gaping pit opened before him, reaching like a starving maw. Far out of reach stood a pillar of stone, topped by a black stone cube. Below the ledge hung chains, each ending in a terrible hook embedded in some unfortunate soul's flesh.

The phantom wounds in the hunter's body throbbed in sympathy but he forced himself to ignore the screams and looked for a way across the pit. Hell had obliged to bring him to the cage but it didn't seem keen on helping him open it. Dean stomped around the edge, kicking stones and cracking his knuckles. If a path didn't present itself, he wasn't sure how he was going to reach the prison cell.

As his boot scuffed over a patch of gravel, the small stones skittered over the edge of the pit but didn't fall. It took a moment for the human to process the fact that the rocks were hovering in mid air but when he did, he kicked more towards the cage. A path was appearing before his eyes, making him chuckle.

"A leap of faith from the lion's head."

Dean felt like Indiana Jones as he shuffled along the invisible bridge until he was faced with the perfectly smooth face of the cage that held Lucifer, Michael, and his half-brother Adam. He pulled the rings of the four Horsemen out of his pocket and weighed the key in his hand. This could easily go very very wrong, but it was a risk he was going to have to take. Hoping for the best, the hunter tossed the rings at the wall and chanted the opening words.

"Beh voh tah mo en, tah beh geh sah, bah bah loh en."

With a sickening slurping noise, the wall swirled away, opening onto the Archangels' personal corner of Hell. Sure that no one would be stupid enough to follow him in, Dean rolled his neck and stepped through the portal.

The hunter refused to think about how long Sam had spent in the cage with the archangels as he gauged his surroundings. He was weirdly reminded of the room Zacharia had locked him in in preparation for being possessed by Michael. But Lucifer's touch was also evident by the purely impressive array of torture instruments. The devices ranged from iron maidens to knives and pears of anguish, all polished and artfully arranged.

Shaking off the realization of who those instruments of pain were likely used on, Dean crept away from the portal. The cage appeared to be a sprawling manor house, rooms branching off with their own themes but always full of wicked equipment and empty of its inhabitants. Finally a staircase lead down from an opulent sitting room and muffled voices could be heard drifting up.

Physical weapons would be useless against the Archangels, but for once, Dean had come prepared with more than salt and steel. He repeated the necessary words silently in his head and stowed the Angel blade before creeping down the stairs. If he had been anyone else, the sight that greeted him would have made him revisit his paltry lunch. As it was, his skin was crawling and he had to consciously keep himself from gritting his teeth.

Lucifer still wore the unknown Canadian man's skin, while Michael bore the young John Winchester's face. They stood over a bloody pile of flesh and bones, admiring their handy work and it took Dean a moment to realize that the still twitching pile was what was left of Adam, completely deboned. The kid had never been raised in the life, but he was a Winchester and that apparently made him fair game for ghouls, Demons, and Archangels.

"I think you might have broke him this time."

"Hardly, you broke him decades ago."

"Regardless." Michael tossed a boning knife carelessly onto a table and nudged the pile of flesh already beginning to knit back together with his boot. "It's a pity humans aren't more entertaining."

Dean struck what Sam always called his sassy pose and called attention to himself. "Maybe I can liven up your day."

If the Archangels were surprised at having a visitor, they didn't show it. Lucifer sized him up like he was mentally listing what implements of pain to use first. Michael, however, looked like he wanted to skip the torture part and go straight to killing the hunter.

"I like what you've done with the place." The Winchester mentally winced at the cliche line, but he always seemed to lose all semblance of a filter in deadly serious situations.

"Why are you here?" Michael hissed the words, clenching his fists as if he already had his hands buried in his vessel's entrails.

"To do something incredibly stupid."

"Something more stupid than walking into our cage?" Lucifer scoffed while inspecting his nails.

"Oh yeah." Dean gave his patented nod and squint before stepping up his game. "You know Lucy, I overheard Gabriel say that you're a great big bag of dicks, but you've got nothing on your brother here."

Michael hissed in anger, but Lucifer held him back. "You don't have the right to talk about Gabriel!"

"You're right, Gabriel was the only thing God got right." The hunter knew he was getting somewhere when both Archangels surged closer.

"I'll rip you to pieces from the inside out!" Lucifer snarled.

"Come on in then." Dean spread his arms in an invitation that couldn't be refused.

Blinded by fury, the fallen Angel snatched at the offered vessel without first wondering why the Winchester was being so obliging. Dean had expected pain, but it was nothing compared to the Hellfire blazing along his nerves. Lucifer scrambled for control, flooding the human's mind with images of the utter destruction he would bring upon him. With his last ounce of control, the hunter locked eyes with Michael and spoke the commanding Enochian words.

"Geh ah com mah, Geh ah goh hed!"

The Archangel didn't even have the chance to scream as he was sucked into the hunter. Only a handful of people were fit to be an Archangel's vessel, but no vessel was designed to hold two of the celestial creatures. Lucifer and Michael fought for dominance of the form as Dean struggled to hold his atoms together.

Blinding light filled the room, chasing out all shadows until Dean was sure he was going to disappear along with the dark. Then something popped deep in his skull and he felt like his sinuses were draining. The hunter was suddenly alone in his head and in the room except for the filleted body of his half-brother.

Dean half expected the pissed off Archangels to pop out of the corners and smite him into tiny bits before turning their fury upon the Earth but nothing happened. He remembered to breathe and took stock of his body. The hunter felt simultaneously like he was made out of the heaviest lead and that he would float away in a strong breeze. He felt alive and powerful.

With hardly a thought, Adam vanished from the floor, dissipated from that plain of existence and all others. There was nothing that he could not do, filled as he was with the Grace of two Archangels and with only one goal in mind.


	5. Stairway to Heaven

Anything recognizable is not my property. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

* * *

Stairway to Heaven

Dean stood in the shadow of the huge old oak tree of his memories and stared at the house. Everything about it was exactly the same as the hunter remembered, except when the upstairs light came on, it wasn't to silhouette a woman. He would always be able to recognize his little brother, even in this false Lawrence.

Long after the light had gone out, Dean crept towards the house. On a whim he checked the top of the door frame for the spare key and chuckled to himself when he found it. Good old Kansas. Some things never changed.

It only took a few moments for the hunter to hear movement upstairs and he waited in the kitchen. But rather than flip on the lights, Sam felt his way through the house and blindly struck out at the intruder. They traded several blows, but Dean soon pinned the larger man to the floor.

"Easy Tiger." He didn't realize it would feel so good to see his brother again.

"Dean? You scared the crap out of me."

"That's because you're out of practice,"

Quicker than he looked, Sam wrapped one leg around his older brother and reversed their position. Dean let out a surprised huff. "Or maybe not."

Sam let the shorter man up and was shocked when Dean embraced him. "It's so good to see you."

Before the hug could become awkward, the younger Winchester wriggled away. "Dude, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, but we got to go." He threw his thumb up towards the front door.

Sam shook his head and took another step back. "I'm not going anywhere Dean."

"And I'm not kidding around, you died man, now I've got to get you back in your body."

"I know, but I don't want to go back." At his brother's blank stare, he elaborated. "I'm home, Jessica is asleep upstairs, there's no monsters or demons, just us."

"But this is wrong." Dean didn't know how to make the taller man understand.

"No Dean, this is what is supposed to happen when people die. They either go up or down and they stay there."

"But I need you."

"No you don't. Now please go." Sam took another step back towards the stairs.

"Sam?"

"Goodbye Dean." The taller man took one last look at his older brother and turned away, leaving him standing alone in the dark.

Dean stood there for a long time, mind blank. For half a moment, he knew he could simply snap his fingers and force Sam back into his body, but he gave up on the thought. It wouldn't be fair to his brother to force him into something he didn't want. Everything had changed and he just had to accept that fact.

* * *

Desperate for something simple and familiar, Dean left the copy of his childhood home and appeared before the Heavenly version of the Road House. He needed the security of the predictable, and alcohol was always that. When he entered the bar, everything looked exactly how he remembered before the fire. Dust motes floated lazily above the tables and chairs in various states of disrepair, and the bar was well worn. The only thing missing was Ash passed out on top of the pool table.

Winchester helped himself to a beer from behind the counter and eyed the pool table. It was much more fun to fleece bikers than to play by himself, but there wasn't a lot else to do in the quiet bar so he picked up a que. After three, all too short games, Dean looked around again for Ash. He expected the quantum leaping genius spirit would have returned by now. A quick sweep through the apartment above the bar turned up just as empty.

Something niggled at the back of his mind as being wrong and Dean stopped in the middle of the Roadhouse common to listen. The building was entirely silent, without even the hum of electricity, but the hunter was sure there was something, just out of earshot. It was like trying to pick one instrument out of an orchestra, but slowly, it came into focus.

"I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

The mantra repeated itself as Dean tried to place who he heard

"Dean, forgive me."

The hunter suddenly realized what he was hearing. Somehow, without meaning to, he had tuned in to Angel Radio. And there was only one person he could possibly be listening to. Castiel was alive, but something was wrong if he felt like he needed forgiveness.

"Cas!" Winchester called out to the empty bar, then frowned.

Angel Radio was some kind of celestial telepathy and shouting wasn't going to get him any kind of response. Instead, Dean focused inward, trying to picture the Angel and spoke silently to him.

"Cas, where are you?"

"I'm so sorry Dean."

"Come on buddy, what happened to you?"

"I am sorry."

"Where are you?"

There was no sign that Castiel heard him and the hunter cursed out loud. He had no idea where the trenchcoat wearing Angel was, but he was sure he had something to do with the Heavenly Host being expelled. Fortunately, Dean still surged with the power of the two Archangels. All he had to do was figure out how to find his Angelic friend.

The hunter remembered years before, when Castiel had told him he simply searched everywhere, all in a few heartbeats. While the idea was sound, Dean had no idea where to start. Entering Heaven had felt instinctual, like a string connected him directly to where he wanted to go and Sam had been a natural extension of that. But the Angel had become just as important and all he had to do was find the right thread and follow it.

* * *

Castiel didn't want to open his eyes. If he opened them, he would have to accept what he had done. As long as he didn't look, he could pretend that he didn't exist. He could imagine that his prayers of forgiveness were answered. The darkness would cloak him from the pain and guilt that plagued him. But an unfamiliar sound forced him to accept consciousness.

The Angel knew the sound of each of his brothers when they appeared, but it was not the flutter of Metatron's wings that made him look around. It was a great thunderclap, muffled by the glass doors, but definitely real. Deliriously, he thought it was one of the Archangels, but quickly dismissed the thought. They were all destroyed, and no one could enter Heaven because of him.

He wanted to let unconsciousness take him again, but he listened carefully as the doors slid open. Hoping against hope that Metatron would have forgotten about him, Cas waited for pain. What came instead was the sound of heavy boots rushing around the chair he was strapped to. Finally curious, Castiel opened his eyes.

Dean was appalled at seeing the Angel strapped to the chair, covered in blood. And for one long moment he was afraid that he was too late to save him. When Castiel opened his ridiculously blue eyes, the hunter could have shouted with joy. But the celestial being didn't greet him, or even look happy for the rescue.

Castiel's brows furrowed in confusion and then he tried to look away. "You aren't here."

Dean swallowed in sympathy with the Angel's hoarse voice. "Cas, I'm really here."

"You can't be real."

"Sure I can. Let's just get out of here."

Before they could continue their argument, the glass door swept open and Metatron strode purposefully in. He took one look at Dean and stopped in his tracks. The hunter had been a thorn in his side, and there was absolutely no way he could have entered Heaven. Yet there he stood, edging between the Angels, trying to shield Castiel.

"Well, this is unexpected." The scribe chuckled, delighted to have a new form of entertainment.

"Did you really think I wouldn't come for him?"

"And just how did you get in?"

"Sheer force of will." The hunter put every ounce of hate and danger that he felt into the words, daring the Angel to make the first move.

"Be that as it may. I suppose you're here for Castiel. Not that he's any use to you now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean glanced over his shoulder to the still bound Angel.

Castiel must have decided that the human wasn't a hallucination because he spoke up. "My Grace - It's gone."

"Where is it?" Winchester could feel the desire to disembowel the scribe beginning to grow and electricity dance along his skin in anticipation.

"He literally means it's gone." Metatron obviously underestimated the hunter and stepped gleefully closer.

"Tell me how to get it back and I let you die quick."

"You really think you could kill me?" The scribe laughed in genuine amusement before raising one hand and snapping his fingers.

Castiel flinched, expecting to feel warm blood and ichor splatter across his face but nothing happened. Dean still stood, ready to drop into a battle crouch, hands balled at his sides. All amusement drained from Metatron's face as he took a hesitant step back. The turbocharged hunter couldn't help but take the moment to flex his mojo just for effect. All of the lights in the room dimmed slightly, leaving only the blazing silhouette of four magnificent wings.

Metatron was unable to move as Winchester flicked his wrist, allowing a silver Angel blade to appear. The lesser Angel did a perfect impression of a fish out of water before finding his words.

"What did you do?"

"How did you think I got into Heaven?" Dean felt the power of the two Archangels dancing through his nerves and let the anticipation grow.

"Impossible."

"Time's up. Where's his Grace?" The hunter almost hoped that the scribe couldn't produce the Grace so he would have an excuse to kill him.

"Destroyed - Used up to seal the Gates of Heaven."

"Guess there's no reason to keep you around then."

Metatron's face went pale under his beard and he managed to back away towards the wall. Dean followed the cowering man until he could move no further. The blade in his hand seemed to sing with the promise of smiting and he agreed wholeheartedly. In his opinion, it was the Angel's fault that Sam was dead, he had tricked and tortured Castiel, and frankly, he just didn't like his face.

The blade sank into his chest like it was butter until the tip bit into the wall. Never looking away from the scribe's eyes, Dean raised his free hand to the side of the Angel's face and let the anger pour out of him. Light enveloped the lesser Angel, swallowing up all shadows in the room along with Metatron's body.

Satisfied that revenge was served, Dean turned back to his friend, staring wide eyed at the weapon in his hand. Castiel recognized the rune covered blade but was at a loss for how it was possible.

"Michael?"

"No, I'm still me." Dean retracted the blade and crouched before the bound Angel.

"But how did you?"

"It doesn't matter. Let's get you out of here."

Just as Castiel had done to him countless times over the years, the hunter passed his hand over the Angel's face, willing the damage to be undone. The blood vanished and bruises faded out of sight as he was healed, allowing the iron bands around Dean's heart to loosen slightly. He had lost Sam, but he was not going to lose the celestial being as well.

"I can't leave, Dean."

"Why the Hell not?" Winchester turned his attention to the bands holding Castiel in place.

"Because I did this. Metatron tricked me, but this is my fault."

"Cas, I am not going to leave you here." As if to show the determination behind the hunter's words, the restraints popped open.

"I deserve this!" Castiel insisted, refusing to move his hands from the arms of the chair.

"Listen to me very carefully." Dean's voice went lower. "I forgave you for playing God. I don't care that you kicked all the Angels out. I don't give a rat's ass that you're human. You're family and I will do everything in my power to bring you home."

The Angel knew well the stubbornness of the Winchester but wasn't done with his self flagellation. "But what about Sam?"

Dean finally had to look away. "Sam's dead."

"He's not-?"

"No, he's here, but he doesn't want to come back."

Castiel had been around the hunters long enough to know that the strange choking sensation he was experiencing was regret and that Dean must feel a thousand times worse. Slowly, he nodded.


	6. Dream a Little Dream

Anything recognizable is not my property. I do not make any claim to ownership, nor do I make any money from this.

* * *

Dream a Little Dream

Dean was simultaneously relieved to be back in the Men of Letters Bunker, and completely dismayed at how empty it was without his brother. Dirty dishes piled in the kitchen was evidence that Kevin was still somewhere in the compound and he hoped the kid had been feeding Crowley. The last thing he wanted to do was clean up another corpse.

After centuries of watching humans, Castiel quickly picked up the basics of hygiene, even while most entertainment continued to escape him. Cooking, however, was a complete disaster and Dean gave up trying to teach him how to use the oven least the former Angel burn down the bunker. Kevin disappeared one night, apparently more than willing to accept that the Demon/Angel war was finished. And no one could decide what to do with Crowley.

There quickly came a routine where the hunter cooked, Castiel looked after Crowley, and the former King of Hell spewed insults in his ridiculous accent. However, as to be expected, there was a downside to forcing two Archangels into his meatsuit. Dean hadn't slept for even a minute since before Sam died. Exhaustion would come like the tide, rising until he would lock himself in his room and lay in his bed attempting to sleep until he was no longer tired. But even that was exhausting.

Out of productive things to do, he explored the Bunker, looking through the archives and artifacts, found several more hidden rooms, and tried anything else he could think of to keep boredom at bay. At one point, the hunter even thought he saw Sam sitting in the library but quickly dismissed it. Then during one of his night time wanderings, the hunter realized he hadn't seen Castiel all day. Dean went to his room and found it empty, then hurried to the kitchen which was also lacking any sign of the former Angel. Everywhere he looked, there was no indication that the blue eyed man even existed.

Running out of places to search for his friend, Winchester rushed to the dungeon room where they kept Crowley. Only there was no former King of Hell in the room. Panic tried to choke the hunter, but he forced it into anger. The only explanation for the two men's disappearance was if the demon had done something to Castiel and he was going to make him pay. There were plenty of weapons in the Bunker, but this was personal. Crowley had lead them around by their noses before, he was there when Sam died, now Castiel was missing and nothing was going to stop Dean from using the Colt to put him down.

When he reached his room, the hunter stopped short. Standing next to his overlarge memory foam bed was Castiel. But not as he was as a human. Dean's first instinct was the former Angel had somehow gotten his Grace back, but that was impossible. It took a long moment for the blue eyed man to finally speak and his words were heavy.

"You have to wake up, Dean."

"I'm right here Cas."

"It's all just a dream." Castiel couldn't hold the hunter's gaze and instead looked at the bed.

"What is? Look at me."

"Please. I need you."

There was more desperation in those syllables than Dean had ever heard in his life. After everything they had been through, Castiel was as much family as Sam was and the hunter would do anything in his power for him. He followed the Angel's gaze to the bed, mouth falling open as he saw a man's form tucked under the sheets.

Dean stared down at his own body, cataloging injuries and scrambling to find some explanation. For a moment he thought that he was piercing the veil again and stuck as a spirit but he remembered exactly how he got there this time. Bandages covered the side of the body's face and right eye and more disappeared under the sheet. The hunter hesitantly reached out to touch the man laying in his bed, half expecting his hand to go right through his arm but he was met with warm flesh.

Castiel still stood next to the bed like a sentinel, brow furrowed as a tear spilled down his cheek. Dean couldn't bear to see the Angel so distraught and he closed his eyes. Gently, a warm hand settled on his cheek but when the hunter tried to look at his friend, everything remained dark. He could not open his eyes or turn his head or speak. It was as if all motor control had been cut off, leaving only sensation.

* * *

As the days after Dean was injured dragged on, Sam began to withdraw from the life. He spent more time researching than hunting and soon began dispatching other hunters from the Bunker. Castiel had given up the stolen Grace after Heaven was reclaimed but chose to remain on Earth with the Winchesters and now devoted his time to medicine and healing. But when he wasn't patching up other hunters, the former Angel sat with Dean, talking and reading aloud.

He also took up gardening. Partly to escape into the simplicity of nature and watch the bees, but primarily to cultivate one plant. African Dream Root. The tea was the worst thing the former Angel had ever tasted, but he needed to see Dean again. Just the thought of never seeing his smile again made his heart ache, so he threw himself into research and his role as keeper.

The first time Castiel hesitantly laid down next to the locked-in hunter and gagged down the tea, he hoped Dean would not object to the intrusion has he had done in the past. But when he opened his eyes, he was in awe of how real the dream felt, even more so than when he had communicated with the hunter in secret as an Angel. And the relief he had felt at seeing the older Winchester awake was overwhelming.

Years marched along as they always did with little changing in the Bunker. Sam considered himself a fully fledged Man of Letters and Castiel could easily have become a surgeon at any hospital. However, Dean remained just the same and neither man could abandon him so they shared what dreams they could and waited to meet Death again.


End file.
